


to get a dream of life again

by Del (goddessdel)



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, No Spoilers, Post-Episode: 2015 Xmas The Husbands of River Song, Post-Episode: 2016 Xmas The Return of Doctor Mysterio, Pre-Season/Series 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 07:39:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10552582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessdel/pseuds/Del
Summary: "...That turned out all right, eh? Saved the world in the end. You're just a bit out of practice, is all. You'll get the hang of it again."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written: 1/15/17-3/15/17  
> Revised slightly: 4/10/17
> 
> Title: "Breadth of Life" by Florence + the Machine
> 
> Takes place immediately following TRoDM. No spoilers for series 10, pure speculation, which I fully expect to be Moffat-ed immediately. Not beta'd, so all mistakes are my own. I just wanted to get this out before the new series because I'm having a lot of feels about Series 10 and Twelve as The Professor!
> 
> Completely accidentally, this could reside in the same universe as "Betwixt mine eye and heart."

The Doctor is bent heavily over the console, hands wrapped around the sturdy metal, when Nardole returns to the TARDIS. He hears the doors shut without lifting his weighted head, his throat constricted even with his collar undone.

 

He misses her so much it makes it hard to breathe, as though every molecule of his body - right down to the bronchi in his lungs - refuses to function without River.

 

"I'm not sure I can do it anymore, Nardole."

 

Edging cautiously forward with slow, shuffling steps, Nardole queries nervously, "Do what?"

 

"Care."

 

"Nonsense. That turned out all right, eh? Saved the world in the end. You're just a bit out of practice, is all. You'll get the hang of it again." Nardole pats the Doctor awkwardly on the back and then quickly retreats, hands in the air, at the Doctor's glare.

 

"Will I? Is that what you do in your extensive experience of saving worlds: practice until you get the hang of it?"

 

"Well... yeah..." Nardole winces and shrugs, puttering around the console muttering about tea and Genghis Khan.

 

The Doctor shuts his eyes and tries to shut out Nardole's well-meaning blather. He'd retreat to his study if he was certain his legs would hold him.

 

"...You know she'd need a supply lecturer."

 

The Doctor glances up sharply, about to lash out and threaten to lop off Nardole's head again for never knowing when to leave well enough alone - _especially_ when it comes to River - only to find Nardole giving him a tentatively encouraging and utterly ridiculous smile.

 

What's even worse is: Nardole is right.

 

River's courses and position at Luna would be sitting vacant; gathering dust without her, just like he is.

 

The Doctor's fingers twitch over the console.

 

"We're making a stop first."

 

...

 

River's house is small and tucked out of the way; hidden behind tall trees but close enough to Luna University that she could walk - though she always insisted on driving some modified electric sports car that went at least three times the legal limit.

 

Of course, it's bigger on the inside.

 

There are wardrobes and cellars and entire rooms tucked neatly away in pockets between universes, full of secrets and spoilers and her bloody massive shoe collection.

 

He lands on her sunflower patch and winces before he remembers that she's hardly about to scold him for that now.

 

The security system still recognizes him and tolerates Nardole as a guest (once he's been scanned for weapons and, predictably, deemed harmless). The Doctor takes a deep breath and steps over the threshold - wanting just a moment before Nardole can blunder on ahead.

 

He'd not been brave enough to cross this threshold after Darillium, kissing River goodbye from the safety of the TARDIS and collapsing the second the door closed.

 

The house is just how River left it before her expedition. Greedy for every second he could steal with her, the Doctor had dropped her off with just enough time for her to change and leave. It's a mess of haphazardly discarded clothing and things (everyone always assumes that the Doctor is the messy one, and River enjoys - enjoy _ed_ \- teasing him mercilessly), but the truth is that the two of them match. Always rushing between one adventure and the next; neither can be bothered to pause long enough to tidy up. And River certainly did not trust robotics or strangers enough to leave them the task.

 

Besides, the TARDIS is home. This is just another of the places River passed through between adventures. Oh, she usually keeps it up well enough to look like a proper home for visitors, but the dust and stark, minimalist décor give it away.

 

There's a full hidden shoe wardrobe - more of an entire room, really, complete with lighting and floor to ceiling racks of shoes - just off the entryway, meticulously organized by color and occasion. Several pairs of River's boots are scattered on a mat by the door anyway, abandoned there to avoid trekking mud through the house and subsequently forgotten about. Her coats form a precarious pile atop the coatrack, a few already fallen to the floor.

 

He doesn't realize Nardole has wandered off - frozen just in River's entryway by the sight of one of his old coats (which she probably nicked) nestled haphazardly amongst her coats on her rack - until Nardole reappears clutching River's teapot.

 

"Tea?"

 

The Doctor snatches it out of his hands before he can even tell his body to move, brushing past Nardole to place it carefully back where it was on the worktop and growling, "Don't touch anything!"

 

Nardole blinks at him, confused. "But, it's just tea."

 

Two of River's cups are already set out on the counter - an unassuming mug with a chipped rim and a duck in a pond cartoon that was originally Amy's alongside a delicate porcelain teacup and saucer that was part of a 17th wedding present from Vastra and Jenny and is the last survivor of his former body's clumsiness. The Doctor scans the fine layer of dust on the counter to determine where River left them and returns them painstakingly, taking care to make sure his hands don't shake.

 

"If you can't keep your hands to yourself, go wait in the TARDIS."

 

The Doctor pins Nardole under his sternest glare, letting his eyebrows settle crossly, and then abandons him in the kitchen. He makes it to the bedroom before he has to clutch the doorframe to hold himself upright, his knees rudely giving out.

 

It's even more of a mess than the entryway - clothing strewn indiscriminately across the bed and nightstand, interspersed with River's jewelry and makeup. She would have needed a pack for the expedition - something she almost never bothered to travel with - since she'd gone with her team and not cheated with her vortex manipulator, like usual.

 

The Doctor sinks down onto the bed, hand stroking a piece of fabric that could be grey or cerulean for all he can see through suddenly blurry eyes.

                                                                                                                                                                                         

This may not have been their home, but this was one of the places River lived. They have memories together here. He can feel her presence in the lingering scent of her shampoo and the anachronistic nature of her wardrobe.

 

 _River_.

 

She thought she'd be back in a few days, just like always, and now the Doctor is alone in her house, sitting amongst her things.

 

He could shut the house up and let it. Pack away her things into some forgotten TARDIS room, the way he does with reminders of his companions.

 

He doesn't think he could stand it. River was his _wife_. She deserves better from him. He'll _be_ better for her.

 

...

 

Luna is one of those funny human colonies that modelled itself after the twenty-first century despite the modern technology used in their construction, a nostalgic habit he's never quite understood. Luna University is the epitome of the theme, made to look like the old stalwart institutions, all stone with marbled hallways.

 

His boots echo, loud and cross, as the Doctor makes his way down familiar corridors to River's office.

 

It's just as he remembers it. Though he must admit that his memory of her office tends to involve one or the other of them splayed out across her desk, so he's never taken the time to properly appreciate the details before.

 

Unlike the majority of her house, River's office is lived in. Her degrees are hung in long rows across one wall, the rest of the space occupied by bookshelves. He runs his fingers along the spines, taking in her personal library - most of it nicked from across galaxies and timelines and more than a few pieces borrowed from the TARDIS - and conjuring up visions of River curled up in their bed with Chaucer or Einstein. The books, not the men, for which he is grateful.

 

The Doctor sinks into River's chair, antique and surprisingly comfortable, and rests his boots on her desk over half-marked papers and dog-eared archaeology journals.

 

River's publications have their own bookshelf near the door - her manuscripts and books and theses neatly lined up by date and topic. Interspersed as paperweights are anachronistic souvenirs from River's travels and prizes from her expeditions - he spots one of Elizabeth I's hairpins near a champagne bottle from the Napoleonic wars that is supporting a first edition copy of the _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_. There's an oversized, picturesque window looking out onto the Luna lawn, and a conspicuously empty corner that happens to be the exact perfect size for the TARDIS out of no coincidence at all.

 

"There you are! I've been looking all over... you're going to be late on your first day!"

 

Standing in the doorway, worrying his cap in his hands, Nardole fidgets nervously. "What are you doing hiding in here?"

 

He can see the moment Nardole's eyes alight on the wall of degrees and the name in bold, ornate print. Nardole's face resumes its pinched, worried look, and then he tries to hide it, quickly turning to one of the bookshelves and watching the Doctor out of the corner of his eye like the Doctor can't tell.

 

The Doctor stands quickly, interrupting before Nardole can insist that they need to talk again. As though speaking about River will lessen the ache in his hearts and bones and individual cells. "Just settling into my new office. What do you think?"

 

He doesn't wait for an answer, pushing past Nardole and back into the hallway, following a well-tread pathway to River's lecture hall.

 

Nardole scurries after him with a distressed noise. "Wait!"

 

The Doctor ignores him. He straightens his back and throws open the lecture hall doors, stepping out onto the cavernous stage that used to belong to River alone.

 

"Hello, I'm the Professor."


End file.
